A Father
by rosefields
Summary: Scott Tracy has been under a lot of pressure since his mother died. But he can cope, it's not a problem. Jeff know that, his oldest is strong and capable and he doesn't need his father. Right? (Partly Outsider POV)


Hi Everyone.

I am not dead! For those of you here from my H50 work, Ill have a new oneshot up tomorrow, as well as an avenger's one.\

This is my newest story, a Thunderbirds one-shot based on the 1960's original series. I write Jeff Tracy from the early days after Lucille's death much as I see John Winchester: a grieving man trying to help his boys and having no idea that the only thing they really need is him. But he really does have good intentions.

The brothers are aged as follows (pretty much made up for the purposes of this story), with the boys following the ages as per most of the information found on ( www . /canon-foundry/the-characters/tracy-sons-birth-order/).  
Scott: 16:  
Virgil 13  
John: 11  
Gordon: 6  
Alan: 3

* * *

The sound of a young boy crying drew Scott slowly from sleep. He went from asleep to awake n the way toast came out of the toaster, slowly then all at once. Within seconds he was out of his room, down the hall and into the room shared by Gordon and Alan. The cries of the older boy from his loft had woken the younger in his crib and Scott was faced with the screams of a tired three-year-old and the terrified hiccups of a six-year-old ripped from dreams of his dead mother. Thinking quickly, Scott moved towards the red-head, knowing Alan wouldn't quiet until his brother had. He scaled the ladder to the loft, sitting beside his brother and pulling him close.  
"Alright Gordo, one of that. It's alright bud just a dream, just a dream mate." The tears dried slowly, shaking following suit shortly after until Gordon was a hot, exhausted lump Scott's side. He settled the boy back against his pillows, leaning to smooth back his hair when the soft sound of a half-asleep voice reached him.  
"Wasn't a dream Scotty, 'twas real. She's gone." As Gordon's eyes slipped close, so too did a tear down Scott's cheek.

It took another hour to rock the youngest back to sleep, another four before he'd soothed the nightmares of his two other brothers. He hadn't gotten to bed until past eleven, and after the nightmares, it was nearing 5:30 anyway by the time Scott sipped back to bed to soak up the last half hour of sleep.

* * *

By sixth period calculus that day, Scott was close to nodding off. By seventh period PE, he was dead on his feet. Jeff Tracy hadn't been home in three days due to his latest business deal, and the toll of nightmare duty ready for school, dropping everyone off at their various schools, school picking everyone up, after-school activities, dinner, bed-times and repeat was taking is toll on the sixteen-year old.  
"Listen up everyone. Second half of the Presidential Fitness Test today. Strength was last lesson; the mile is today. I want everyone in their gear in the next five minutes and out on the track." The boys nodded in affirmation to Mr Kilmann, the no-nonsense PE teacher that had been the dictator of the track and field team for nearing thirty years. As the group traipsed towards the change rooms, the gravelly voice barked a final order.  
"Tracy, stay back."

* * *

Scott Tracy looked exhausted. Scratch that, he looked dead. Of all the students Mark Kilmann had taught over his career, Scott Tracy was the most polite, mature student he'd come across that also had incredible athletic potential. But since the boy's mother had died, the strong boy had slowly sunk into himself, shrinking into a shell of himself. Kilmann had watched the boy slowly break his impeccable attendance record, showing up late with a muttered excuse about his brothers increasingly often. The youth approached him, head bowed; it was a sure cry from the confident posture he used to display.

"Tracy, you aren't looking so good. Sure you're alight to run? You've been on the track team, so I can pass you without the mile." He neglected to mention that Scott hadn't been t a single meet or practice in more than a month.  
Scott looked up, sleep deprivation written on every inch of his stark white face, eyes ringed as if he'd gone ten rounds with someone he couldn't beat. "Fine, thank you sir. I'll go get changed and see you on the track."  
The student, once a jokester, turned away quietly, trudging to the change rooms. Well, Mark sighed, he'd tried.

When Mark checked his watch and they were just over five minutes into the mile, he began to worry. Scott Tracy solidly ran the mile in 4:45, sometimes faster and rarely slower. When five-thirty ticked over and Joshua, his second fast came in, Kilmann knew something was wrong. He opened his mouth to ask the boy when a dark headed figure came around the corner, form shot to hell and heaving. Kilmann checked the time. Six-oh-one. He clapped Joshua on the back, moving to the oldest Tracy. Scott looked worse than before; white had turned to ash grey, he was sweating, and normally clear eyes had clouded over. He gently rested a hand on Scott's back.  
"Head to the nurse bud. I'll get someone to call your father. You aren't in any shape to get your brother's." Scott went from hazy to alert within seconds, eyes wide and clear.  
"The concern's unnecessary sir. I'm a bit out of shape is all." He straightened up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get changed. I will be picking up my brother's tonight."  
He stormed off. Mark thought it would have had a lot more impact if he hadn't still been stumbling.

The end of day bell rang, and Mark slumped into his office chair. He had a phone call to make. It took only seconds to find Jeff Tracy's number, a second longer to dial and then another for the patriarch to pick up.  
"Tracy."  
"Hi Mr Tracy. It's Mark Kilmann, I'm Scott's physical education teacher."  
"Ah, Mr Kilmann, yes, I remember, we met at track a few years ago. What can I do for you?"  
"It's about Scott, Mr Tracy, he's appearing overworked, exhausted, even."  
"Mr Kilmann, thank you for your concern, but Scott is just adjusting to-" the man paused and Mark remembered that not only had Scott lost his mother, this man had lost his wife. "He's adjusting to some things."  
"Mr Tracy, I agree Scott must be having a hard time, but the fact is your son seems to be close to putting his health in danger if he doesn't start getting some proper rest."  
"Kilmann, my family is my responsibility. Scott is strong and he's responsible. He'd tell me if he needed something but for now he hasn't, so I'd appreciate if you do your job and leave me to do mine. Good Day." The dial tone filled his ear, and Mark realised that by hanging up, Jeff may have stopped him being able to do his job-protecting his students.

* * *

Scott's first stop was Alan's pre-school. The youngster couldn't be left there past four thirty, so it took everything Scott had to get there on time. He pushed open the door, hearing the familiar chime of the door as it brought forth the sound of chattering parents. He scanned the room, pushing his grief from his face and allowing his big-brother smile to slide in; above all else, his brothers needed him to be strong.  
"'cotty!" The lisping sound of his youngest brother had Scott turning on the spot, opening has arms just as the blonde jumped into them. The traces of Alan's disturbed sleep were non-existent on his bubbly face, but a day of pre-school was taking its toll ad even as the toddler babbled into Scott's ear the words were getting further apart as he began to fall asleep. Scott nodded towards Alan's teacher, and headed out. One down three to go.

Gordon's elementary school was a short walk from the pre-school, as he did everyday but Tuesday's, he had swim practice, a longer walk in the opposite direction (Gordon got a bus with the rest of the team, but there wasn't one that would get Scott back there without being late). Scott settled Alan on his shoulder and began the walk.

Gordon's pick up went as smoothly as Alan's. The red-head reluctantly left the pool, but once he started walking, his tight grip on Scott's hand and constant chatter showed Scott he was just as happy out of the water as in. By the time they had made the treck back to John and Virgil's middle school, Alan was a dead weight on his hip and even Gordon was beginning to flag. John and Virgil were waiting patiently by a tree, both engrossed in the latest boo that had happened to pique their interest.  
"Virg, Johnny, time to get going."

* * *

All the boys bar Scott were in bed when Jeff Tracy arrived home. He saw his oldest at the kitchen table, books spread in front of him. His face was plastered to the pages of a calculus textbook, back rising and falling slowly in sleep. Jeff felt anger bubble. No wonder teachers were calling him; Scott clearly couldn't be responsible enough to get to bed at a reasonable hour. He pulled the book from under Scott's head, the teen startling awake.  
"Father?" He blinked the sleep from his eyes.  
"Scott Tracy what is wrong with you? I as you to do a few things, take care of your brothers, go to school, that's it! And I'm getting calls from your school that you aren't keeping up, that you're tired. Maybe you wouldn't be so tired if you went to bed at a reasonable hour."  
"Father I-"  
"I don't want to hear it Scott. I spend my days working hard, making money so this family can live a good life and you can' do what I ask of you! And I don't ask much! I ask you to take care of your brother, to do well at school. And I find you here, asleep because you clearly wasted too much time today to get your work done at a reasonable hour."  
Scott felt his own anger rise. Who was Jeff Tracy to tell him how hard he had or hadn't been working He hadn't been home to see it.  
"We don't need money, father! We need you! I have been working hard but I can't do it all without you! Alan barely remembers you. Gordon thinks you aren't proud of him. John and Virgil miss you, the you from before!"  
"That me is gone! They don't need me to be proud of the or care for them or remember them, they have you for that!"  
Scott whirled around, spittle flying from his mouth, face red, ager flaring. "What about me! _I_ need you! I can't do this by myself and I need you! They don't want me, they don't need me. They need their father. _I need my father_!" The two stood, face to face, chests heaving in silence. Silence that was broken by the ringing of Jeff's mobile. Scott scoffed, heading towards the door, where his brothers waited outside.  
"Scott-"  
"Forget about it, just answer. We both know whenever is on the other end is more important than anything here." Scott walked out the door, settled Alan on his back, held Gordon's hand. It was just another day.

* * *

Seventh-period PE was the last thing Scott needed. The day had dragged from start to finish and the icing on the cake had been Kilmann announcing the boxing class they would be doing. He'd been paired up with Joshua; the boys had been close friends from a young age, but since his mother's death, they had grown apart. The sparring wasn't going well. Scott could feel his reflex slowing, each hit harder to doge. It really wasn't turning out to be his day.

* * *

Mark had been watching the sparring session with decreasing focus on most of the class. He kept getting drawn to a solitary pair. Joshua was a fair fighter, but he usually had nothing on Scott. Usually. Mark watched as the hits grew closer to making contact with Scott's head. He saw the final hit coming, starting to cross the room when he knew it would make contact. The smack echoed around the room, causing the class to freeze. They had been practicing weaving, the hits were meant to be set to be dodged, no one should have been hit. What Mark was really not expecting was for Tracy to go down. The boy's legs buckled, the hit apparently the last blow to an exhausted figure. Scott fell in slow motion, knees bending, torso crumping and landing on the hardwood flaw with ta bang. Neither Mark of Joshua were fast enough to catch him. The crash of Scott hitting the floor was louder than the smack of glove on face. Mark was on his knees a second later, feeling a strong if slightly fast pulse in the teenager's neck. He looked up.  
"Joshua, stay here. Tom, Sarah, go get the nurse. Everyone else clear out."  
The students rushed to follow his directions.  
"Sir I swear, I pulled the punch as soon as I realised it was going to hit. I didn't mean to-"  
"Clam down. I know. He was going to go whether you hit him or not." He reached down, patting the pale cheek.  
"Come on Scott, wake up. Wake up for me bud." The teen didn't move and after several minutes of the same routine, the nurse rushed in.  
"Scott Tracy. Passed out, took a small hit to the head but I'd bet on the cause of collapse actually being exhaustion."  
"Alright." She took Mark's spot, taking Scott' pulse and repeating his earlier request for the boy to wake up.  
"Help me get him into the recovery position." Together they rolled him, positioning him on his side.  
"How long has he been out?"  
Mark checked his watch. "Just gone five minutes."  
"alright, I'm going to call the paramedics. I don't like his pulse and," she pinched Scott's hand, "See how the skin's not bouncing back? I'd say he's dehydrated too. Just to be safe, I'm going to call it in. Stay here, see if you can't get him to come around. Joshua come with me please." She hurried towards the office and once more, Mark was alone with the unconscious pupil.

Three minutes or thereabouts past, when finally, Scott showed signs of waking. Mark gripped the boy's hand. "Scott, can you hear me?"  
Lashes fluttered against pale cheeks and slowly, Scott's eyes opened. Garbled words escaped his mouth.  
"Sorry Scott, what was that?"  
A small tongue darted out, licking dry lips. "Dad?"  
Mark sighed. "Sorry bud. It's Mr Kilmann. You're at school but you'll see your day real soon, okay?"  
Scott's breathe heaved out, eyes fluttered closed. Th ambulance approached, but he didn't wake.

Mark paced outside the ER, waiting to be put through the Jeff Tracy. A tone sounded, and finally, he was connected.  
"Tracy."  
"Mr Tracy, it's Mark Kilmann again, from Scott's-"  
"Yes Mr Kilmann, I remember you. I'm very busy and I don't need you wasting my time, meddling in something that isn't your to be meddled in."  
"Mr Tracy, if you would let me finish, I was going to tell you I'm calling from St. Charles General. Scott collapsed in my class today and was brought in for severe exhaustion and dehydration."  
There was silence on the other end of the line for a second. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Jeff Tracy stumbled into the waiting room. The man in front of him was a shadow of the man Mark had met years before. His face was a shade similar to Scott's own, he'd lost weight and his eyes were dull. He was the picture of man who had just lost his wife, was trying to raise his sons and was, in turn, failing miserably.  
"Mr Tracy, I'd wish I was seeing you under better circumstances."  
"Jeff, please. And me too. I'm sorry about the other day. And today, I guess. It's been a bit of a rough couple of months." He slumped into the chair beside Mark, deflating.  
"Jeff, you don't need to apologise for having a hard time. Just, accept help when t comes your way, yeah?"  
Jeff sighed, slumping further into his chair and Mark was struck by the fact that one of the most important men in the business world was currently lumped next to him.  
"He's the strong one, you know? He takes care of the boys, I don't even need to be there. It's easier to leave them alone because, god, they're all just like her. Virgil has her hair, her face. Alan doesn't even remember her, but he has her laugh and Gordon has her infectious love for life. John has her adventurous side, her wit. And Scott, god Scott has her eyes and her smile and her love, her strength and looking after them is like being with her and its just so, so painful. It's easier to let Scott look after the, and pretend it's still her." Jeff dropped his head into his hands. "I miss her so much and can't imagine losing any of them but I'm beginning to think that maybe I already have."  
Mark took a breath, about to reply, when a white-coated man materialised in front of them.  
"Tracy?" Jeff stood immediately. "Scott's going to be fine. We'll keep him overnight to get his electrolytes balanced and rehydrate him; we'll also monitor his sleep and make sure there's nothing more than simple exhaustion going on."  
"Can I see him?"  
The doctor smiled. "Of course, he's awake at the moment but we'll want him to be getting some rest in the next hour or so."  
Jeff reached out, shaking the man's hand. "Thank you so much." He turned to Mark. "Are you coming through?"  
He faltered. "I shouldn't, you need time with your son."  
"I think he'd really like it."  
Mark smiled. "Lead the way."

Scott Tracy looked marginally better than the last time Mark had seen him. It wasn't saying much, the last time he'd seen him, being wheeled out of an ambulance, he'd been semi-conscious and more like a corpse than a young man. He was half awake, semi-reclined with half-hooded eyes. Mark waited back at the door while Jeff walked in.

The older man slowly approached the bed, and it was testament to Scott's exhaustion that he didn't move.  
"Scooter? How you doing there bud?"  
Scott startled, looking up. "Dad?" Mark could see the heartbreaks in Jeff's eyes at Scott's dry croak.  
"Yeah bud." Jeff sat at the bedside, running a hand through Scott's hair. "Heard you aren't feeling so hot right now."  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get sick, I just-"  
"Scott Tracy you listen to me. This is _my_ fault and no one else's."  
"But if I had-"  
"Scott, I should not have made you take care of your brother's. That is my job, not yours. When I got the call today I was so scared son. So, I want you to get some sleep, get better, and I promise that when you wake up and we go home, everything is going to be so much better."  
Scott didn't reply that time, simple leaned into Jeff's hand on his forehead. His eyes slipped closed.

* * *

Scott lay asleep. Alan was tucked under one arm, Gordon curled up near the other. John lay slumped over, head by his oldest brother's feet. Virgil had passed out on the couch, curled under Scott's bomber Jacket, and unconsciously clenching and unclenching the garment in his sleep. Jeff looked over to the balding teacher who had collected the other boys from their schools, then stayed with the family s they'd settled in for the night.  
"I really screwed up, didn't I." He ran a knuckle down Scott's face, brushing hair from his eye. His boy was too thin. Too tired. Too young.  
"Yeah," Mark said, voice low so as to not wake the slumbering boys. "You did. But Scott'll forgive you. He's a good kid."  
Jeff sighed, looking around the room once more, eyes settling on the young boy he'd made old too fast.  
"Yeah. He is, isn't he."


End file.
